


Souls

by trillian_jdc



Series: The Power of Touch [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Appreciation of Mycroft's Arse, First Kiss, M/M, Massage, Mystrade Monday, Mystrade Monday Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Greg is hired for a hush-hush session using his massage skills. He's surprised to discover Mycroft is the client and determined to build on their connection through touch.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: The Power of Touch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997254
Comments: 20
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This retells and extends "Human Touch" from Greg's point of view. Chapter 1 takes place at the same time as the end scene of HT chapter 1. Chapter 2 has Greg's alternate perspective. Chapter 3 parallels chapter 3 but extends a bit further. 
> 
> You should be able to read this without having read the previous story, but why would you want to?

Greg was surprised to get an email from his massage therapy instructor. 

_Don't know what you're up to these days, Greg, but thought you should know I was just interviewed by someone in a dark suit about your training and level of expertise. Hope you've kept your hand in, heh, because I said great things, of course. Keep well._

Must be some kind of followup to that session advert he'd answered on a lark. Wasn't often he saw something that required both massage skills and a security clearance, so he'd sent in a brief description of his experience. If they were checking references, it must be serious. He noted the proposed date on his calendar, now that it looked like the gig might happen, then went back to work.

* * *

The spa where they asked him to report was lush, and when he found out it was reserved that day for just one client, his mind boggled. That was some dedication to luxury relaxation. 

He wasn't told who the client was, of course, but they had paid him for the half-day of refresher training he was required to take, including the security emphasis and special rules -- mostly to act as much as possible, while touching the man, that he wasn't actually there. The silent requirement wasn't natural to him, as he preferred more interaction and feedback from someone under his hands, but the rules weren't objectionable, just unusual. His day job was considered a distinct plus. He could work with this. 

He entered the room once he'd been notified the client was ready. His first thought was that the bloke face-down on the table was gorgeous. Maybe it _had_ been too long since he'd been serious with anyone. He didn't think that was the only reason, though, to appreciate a long, slim body, with a well-formed arse and surprisingly broad shoulders peppered with light freckles. He could see tension in the man's form, but it didn't seem to be from the presence of another person or discomfort over his nudity. Probably just stress; he was obviously some kind of high-powered decision-maker. 

As Greg gathered what he needed and moved around the table, he saw the side of the client's face, and for just a moment, he froze. Luckily work had taught him how to handle unusual surprises, and he was able to keep proceeding silently with his preparations. 

He'd never expected to see Mycroft Holmes in such a position. Hell, he barely saw Mycroft much at all these days. He supposed that was a good thing, since it meant no life- or city-threatening disasters were on offer, but he did miss commiserating with someone who knew and appreciated both the benefits and risks of Sherlock's chaos. 

Naked, he could see more of the resemblance between Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. That was probably not the way you were supposed to think about a work consultant and his scary older brother, but Sherlock spent a few years ignoring expectations of standard dress when inviting visitors into his flat. Been a long time since then, though. Having the kiddie around had been good for him. 

Greg needed to focus, in spite of the lovely view. He was here to do a job, one he'd been told he was good at, and that's what he was going to do. Didn't matter that he was now itching to get his hands on Mycroft in a different context. Down, boy. He could set that aside and focus on therapeutic touch patterns. He could stay professional and do the best job possible. "Shoulders, back, arms, legs," he kept repeating to himself. "Don't touch his arse!"


	2. Chapter 2

Greg had never found himself so focused. Even without any conversation or verbal feedback, he felt as though he could read the man beneath his hands, as though there was some bond between them. The energy flow between the two of them was amazing, creating a feedback loop, and he could feel Mycroft melting under his touch. All that existed was the body in front of him and his hands, running over it, kneading and rubbing. 

Finally, the massage was done. He couldn't find another reason to keep touching, and too much more of what he was doing could be detrimental. He knew he was supposed to leave as silently as he entered, but he was concerned. 

Mycroft wasn't asleep, Greg could tell, but there was a slight chance he might have passed out. Perhaps this level of relaxation was too much for him. Greg had to make sure Mycroft was all right before he left. It might get him told off, but bollocks to the rules. He couldn't leave him if he was non-responsive. 

He'd keep it gentle. "Mr. Holmes? Mycroft?" Oh, good, Mycroft was beginning to respond. He hadn't damaged one of the most important men in England. 

He even got a wisecrack in return. "Am I dead?" Mycroft muttered. "I cannot seem to move and might be hallucinating."

Hallucinating? Oh. Himself. Right, that would be a bit unexpected. Keep it professional, Lestrade. "Take it easy, Mr. Holmes. You went deep." He couldn't keep from reassuring him physically, though, cupping his hand against Mycroft's shoulder blade to ground the both of them. "Didn't mean to surprise you." This had, though. He suspected Mycroft likely would not care for knowing his masseur in another context. 

The speed with which Mycroft closed his eyes again, once he finally opened them, confirmed his suspicions. Greg admired how calm Mycroft's voice was, when he acknowledged him as "one of Scotland Yard's finest". He could feel the tension creeping back into Mycroft's back, though. Repeating some of the motions that had worked so well earlier, as Greg explained his presence, would hopefully remind Mycroft that he had nothing to worry about. And that he'd benefited from their interaction so far. 

He didn't expect the compliment, as Mycroft said, quietly, "You are quite skilled, Lestrade. I fear that I will be so relaxed I am unable to walk after this session."

Time for more reassurance. Greg worked on sounding cheerful, as though there was nothing unusual about a mate helping another. "'m just happy to help. Someone like you deserves a bit of pampering. Can't imagine how you go day to day with what you were carrying in these shoulders."

Oh, Mycroft was worried, a bit. He felt the need to caution Greg, "That information should be classified, as you were reminded when you took this booking."

Greg had no problem reminding him of his experience on both fronts. "No worries, Mr. Holmes. Can and will keep a secret." He couldn't resist a little flirting, though. That impulse always got him into trouble, but a good-looking bloke who didn't think he was deserved to know. And when was he going to get another opportunity? "You can, too, obviously. Who would have guessed you were hiding this under your suits?"

"I beg your pardon, Detective Inspector?" Oh, the title had appeared. A retreat to stuffy civility. Did Greg dare to push it a bit? In for a penny, in for a pound. 

"Think you should probably call me Greg, at this point," he chuckled. "Just, you're much better toned than one would expect from what Sherlock says.... Oh, bit of tension there." Greg should have known that mentioning his brother would bring back the stress. Idiot. He _had_ taken it too far. 

After an uncomfortable silence, Mycroft muttered into the face pillow, "Mycroft. Please call me Mycroft. And if you could refrain from mentioning my brother, given the circumstances..."

Well, he got the invite for the first name, at least. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd feared. Time to apologize and remember his job. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Not helping, should have realized. But I think I'm about done here. Let me get your robe."

He wasn't actually surprised by the dismissal. He'd pressed his luck further than he should have and the overall result was still favorable. No need to continue now. If he knew a Holmes, he knew the discovery of new information of this kind would require some processing time. He excused himself and left the room with a "Glad to be of service. Feel free to call on me again." Hopefully that would work as enough of a reminder. 

He hadn't thought about it before, but a renewed association with Mycroft could be very nice indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg hadn't ever before offered his massage services at a crime scene, not wanting to mix the two occupations together, but when he finally saw the man again, he needed to let Mycroft know the option was still available. He'd heard nothing after their one-time session -- which at least meant that the official wasn't angry at his surprise revelation. 

Greg hadn't been able to put the memories completely out of his head. He couldn't help envisioning how that pale skin would feel against more than just his hands. He'd always loved posh, and pretty, and just a tad pretentious. All the more fun to muss up and roll around with. He couldn't push further, though. He needed a hand back, some indication that this wouldn't be one-sided. He'd had enough of that, and he knew how to be patient and, if it came to that, how to cope with disappointment if the gesture never came. 

He could be a friend with certain skills, if that was all Mycroft wanted. God knows the man needed his help in that area, if he could be convinced to accept it. Perhaps he'd like a bargain more than a gift. Some people didn't understand generosity, particularly if they'd rarely seen it. Laying out terms, Greg was pleased that Mycroft took him up on the offer, another session in return for a drink.

* * *

Greg wasn't surprised Mycroft didn't fully undress, but he took instruction well. He'd said he valued expert knowledge, and here he was, letting Greg take the lead in helping him feel better. Greg appreciated that. It was nice to feel respected for being good at something. 

And then, when he refused to turn over, the adorably brave man under his hands revealed, in his own convoluted way, that he was feeling something other than relaxed. That Greg might be in with a chance after all. His libido perked up at that, and what could he do but be honest in return about this now being a mutual interest? 

Their flirting back and forth might be a bit awkward, but the honesty was thrilling. They were both too experienced to expect that rushing in would be the best strategy, though, so time to get them out of the bedroom for that drink and maybe some feeling out of what they were each looking for. 

Greg couldn't resist, though, once again complimenting Mycroft and smacking that delectable arse as it went by, now that he knew more touch would be welcome. He was thrilled, and a bit relieved, that Mycroft ended up smiling at it. He knew he was both cheeky and tactile, when given the opportunity, and he wasn't sure how much Mycroft would appreciate that. But his love of touch was what made him good at massage, the thing that had pushed them into this new way of relating, so he wasn't going to pretend to be something he wasn't. 

He also needed Mycroft to take more of a lead. It was a dance, between them, and they'd trade off, but he wanted the more cerebral man to have a chance to stop and think and make an active decision to proceed. Flirting was all well and good -- and he'd be happy to take more of that, please -- but anyone their age had had their share of bad decision-making. No need for more tallies in that column. 

That was another thing for them to talk about, too. What was Mycroft's history? Greg was sure his was already known. Thanks to Sherlock, everyone knew it. Not the time to be dredging up that old bruise, though. There was enough to be getting on with here already.

* * *

As they shared some fine whisky and made small talk, Greg was beginning to regret what had seemed like a sensible decision at the time. He couldn't stop watching Mycroft's hands, and the posh git seemed to know it, too. No one needed to run their finger around the rim of their glass that much, or gesture quite so elegantly. 

When he found his eyes following Mycroft's hands as though he was at the eye doctor, Greg realized he'd probably had enough. He set the crystal tumbler down with decision. "Right. I may have had a bad idea. But you let me do it, so it couldn't have been too bad." 

Mycroft briefly looked frightened before he smoothed out his features to their normal polished aloofness. "I see. Second thoughts, are there? No hard feelings, Inspector. I'll call you a car." 

"Oi, don't be like that. You're supposed to be the smart one. My bad idea was thinking that we needed a break to be sure before proceeding, that we should talk about history and what we want. But we'll figure this out. Right now, you keep putting ideas in my head, and I'm no longer listening to whatever we've been saying." Greg took a deep breath and looked into Mycroft's eyes. "Can we go back to touching now?" 

Mycroft formed a predatory smirk. "My dear Inspector, I thought you'd never ask. You are the professional, after all, and I welcome your guidance, as I am well-known for valuing the advice and performance of experts." 

"Don't give me that, Mycroft. You are the expert, most of the time. And I should have given you more credit for knowing what you liked." 

"Then what I should like, Greg, is more of your touch. I've never felt so relaxed as in your presence, but I'm hoping that excelling at the opposite is true as well." 

It took Greg a moment to realize what the opposite of relaxed was. Then he grinned. "Back to the bedroom?" 

Mycroft waved him on. "After you. You know the way." 

"But first, I want something else from you." Greg stood up and held out his hands. When Mycroft took them, he pulled him up to standing in front of him. Then Greg raised his hands to the sides of Mycroft's neck and held his head still as he went in for a kiss. 

This would determine if they could make a go of it. Greg couldn't help being a touch romantic about the idea of a first kiss. It was superstitious, but if that didn't work, he couldn't continue. As soon as their lips met, he knew they had nothing to worry about. Mycroft's mouth was firm but yielding, and he seemed to want this as much as Greg did. They were quickly tasting each other, nibbling and panting, tongues twining, eager for more. 

Greg's arms went around those shoulders he'd admired, and he clutched Mycroft more closely. Mycroft's hands were solid on Greg's ribs, holding him securely. They broke for air, each gasping a bit. Greg ran his hands down Mycroft's back, finally grasping his goal, filling his hands with firm globes and clutching, pulling their bodies closer together as they hungrily devoured each other's mouths.

"My. God." Mycroft finally panted out. "Bed. Now. Please." 

Greg threw his head back and laughed. "Anything you say, Mr. Holmes."

**Author's Note:**

> The title may not make a lot of sense, but "Souls" was Rick Springfield's followup single to "Human Touch", both from the _Living in Oz_ album.
> 
> The prompt for November 2 for [Inksolation 8](https://bluebellofbakerstreet.tumblr.com/post/633607963489304576/bluebellofbakerstreet-heres-a-prompt-for-every) was "Handy", which I couldn't resist. But this followup exists because ToDieByYourSide left such a lovely comment on the previous story, and it got me thinking about how Greg saw the events. Never forget that feedback matters.
> 
> This week's Mystrade Monday prompt was “We'll figure this out,” which appears in the final chapter.


End file.
